


Thirty Dollars a Week

by asocialconstruct



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Angst, M/M, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:25:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asocialconstruct/pseuds/asocialconstruct
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-series AU, a little porn, a lot of angst.  Fluff in ch1, mentions of domestic violence in ch2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Underneath It All](https://archiveofourown.org/works/506852) by [elisetales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales). 



He ripped the cottonball off before he got in the door, stuffing it in his pocket and trying to scrub away the tape residue in his elbow before pushing his sleeve down over it.  Abel would see the telltale bruising later, when they showered together to save hot water, or when he stripped to his undershirt for dinner because they couldn’t afford to turn on the shitty old air conditioner, but he didn’t have to advertise it as soon as he walked in the door.

Thirty dollars a week wasn’t worth the humiliation of it.

 _In the past three years were you a member of the military?_   No.  Just shy of three years from discharge, he didn’t have to lie about that one.

 _In the past year, have you come into contact with someone else’s blood?_   No.  Not in the past year, at least.

 _Have you had an ear or other body piercing?_   Yes.  Just the ear, couldn’t and didn’t have to lie about that and they didn’t give a fuck about it.

 _In the past year, have you had sexual contact with a prostitute or anyone else who has ever taken money or drugs or other payment for sex?_   No.  Not for lack of trying, not since Deimos got a boyfriend and stopped putting out for Cain, the selfish little bitch.

 _In the past year, have you been in juvenile detention, lockup, jail, or prison for more than 72 hours?_   No.  A lie, thanks to fucking Stacey the last time Abel had tried to leave him.  But they didn’t check up on that shit.

 _Have you ever received money, drugs, or other payment for sex?_   No.

 _Male donors: Have you ever had sexual contact with another male, even once?_   No.

And so what if he had to lie to get the fucking measly thirty dollars, they tested it anyway, and it didn’t hurt anything but his pride.  Thirty dollars a week wasn’t worth the humiliation of it, or the burning anger every time Abel glanced at his elbows and Cain could see him thinking about it, wondering if he was using, so fucking suspicious.  As if he’d blow money on needle drugs when he’d already given up liquor and cigarettes so they could afford groceries.  Every time Abel glanced at his track marks, Cain could tell he wanted to have another fight about using condoms, but a box was another fifteen dollars a month they couldn’t afford, or else a walk through the crowd of protestors at the clinic to pick up free ones, so he tried to hide it when he could.

But thirty dollars was the difference between keeping the electricity on some weeks, or the price of cat food and half a bag of groceries other weeks, or the gas money Abel and him needed to get to work, so thirty dollars a week had to be worth it, even with his veins getting scarred and looking like a junkie from how often he’d been to the clinic to sell plasma.

Better that than getting paid to jerk it into a cup, thinking about Abel to get off and trying not to think about the baby Abel so desperately wanted but they couldn’t afford.  He’d given up everything else for Abel, living like a fucking saint to make ends meet with only what cigarettes he could beg at work, but he couldn’t make himself do that, even if it would have meant an extra fifty dollars at the end of the month and Abel not having to call his asshole father for a loan every time their shitty car broke down.

So when he came home to find Abel curled up in bed instead of up doing the damn dishes or the overflowing laundry or getting dinner ready, Cain just stripped down and climbed in next to him, pulling Abel’s sleepy warm body against him.  He couldn’t do a damn thing about Abel’s asshole manager switching him to the three am shift at the cafe, or the landlord not returning their calls about the leaking ceiling, but he could let Abel sleep until he felt like waking up, twisting sleepily in Cain’s arms to kiss.

They were both too exhausted to fuck but they did anyway, Abel only protesting a little when Cain broke off kissing to get the lube and make Abel straddle him.  Abel was warm and sweet, and if Cain closed his eyes, he could pretend that there wasn’t anything outside their warm bed and Abel covering him, rocking slow and moaning into another slow kiss.  

It didn’t last long enough, it never lasted enough.  Abel breathed into his neck slowly after, not moving to get off, and that was fine with Cain, Abel’s weight heavy and comforting even if he was skinnier than he had been.  Cain stroked his back and kissed Abel’s ear, trying to ignore the way his ribs stood out more lately, getting thin on a diet of worry and caffeine and cheap pasta, running on double shifts some weeks and no work other weeks.

Abel finally pulled away to curl on his side, and just as Cain started to roll into him, the goddamn cat jumped on the bed between them.  “Koshka, goddamnit, get off the fucking bed,” he snapped, starting to push the cat’s fat butt away.

“She just wants to cuddle,” Abel said, letting the cat settle against his back.  Cain frowned at them, the cat blinking at him slowly, curled against Abel right where Cain wanted to be.

“Don’t need a goddamn chaperone,” Cain bitched, lying back down with the cat snuggled between them.

“You’ll manage,” Abel mumbled, and thirty dollars a week was worth the sleepy tilt of his head as he leaned back for another kiss.  The fucking humiliation of thirty dollars a week didn’t matter so long as he had everything that mattered there in the little warm bed, the cat purring too loud and Abel’s fingers twisted in his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty gratuitously awful. One of the fights that makes Abel leave before either Promises or Void. Warnings on this chapter for mentions of domestic violence.

It was tucked under the bed when he came home that night.  Just a little box, all of Abel’s distrust and suspicion peeking out from under the sheet trailing to the floor.  Cain grabbed it up off the floor and carried it into the kitchen were Abel stood at the stove, stirring the soup he’d watered down to make the can stretch to two meals for both of them.  Cain wanted to just bend him over the kitchen counter and fuck him, Abel standing there barefoot and sweet, glancing back at him with a little smile until he caught Cain’s look.

He shoved the box of condoms at Abel.  “The fuck is this?  Where’d you get the money for these?”

“I used my tip money,” Abel lied, glancing away.  His hand curled around the little box.

“I counted your fucking tip money when we paid the rent, you’re a fucking liar.  Or have you been keeping it, you stupid bitch?  I pick up all the fucking overtime I can so you can put your pin money in a jar to go out with that bitch Stacey?”

“I don’t—it was just a couple dollars, it’s my money,” Abel said quietly, trying to avoid a fight about it, which only pissed Cain off more.  “I put in overtime too,” as if Cain didn’t know that, Abel working twelve hour shifts to keep his manager happy and not cut back his hours to nothing, worse than just getting fired.  Cain gave himself an ulcer worrying about when the asshole would suggest Abel work more hours on his knees to keep his job, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

“Then don’t fucking waste it on shit we don’t need,” Cain snapped.

Abel took a shuddery breath, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to protect himself.  “I didn’t.  Stacey got them for us.”

“That fucking bitch, you tell her to mind her own goddamn business.”  Cain grabbed them away from Abel, going to throw the fucking things out.  “We don’t need her fucking charity, we’re not going to use any—“ 

“Then we’re not having sex,” Abel said, and Cain stopped to stare at him.

“Why?  You been whoring around with Stacey again?” Cain demanded, going back towards Abel, crushing the box in his hand.  He dropped it, grabbing Abel.  “You catch something when you were getting it in some dirty alley after work?  That why you been coming home so fucking late, you little slut?”  He shook Abel, hard, and Abel just took it like every time, trying to keep it from getting worse.  

Abel went limp as a rag doll, letting Cain shake him, and Cain could hear Abel say it, or hear himself say it, even though neither of them said it, couldn’t keep straight anymore when it had happened.  _Please don’t hit me, just this time, please don’t hit me, I won’t do it again, just please please please._   Cain shook Abel harder to make the begging stop, didn’t want to think about Abel begging him or himself begging someone else, and he threw Abel away from him when he couldn’t make it stop.  

Abel stumbled back against the wall, catching himself before he fell and pointedly not looking Cain in the face, pointedly looking at the track marks on Cain’s arms.  Cain grabbed after him as Abel pushed himself away from the wall, shying away from him, and Abel stepped into his shoes before Cain could stop him.  He managed to grab Abel just as Abel grabbed his coat, jerking him away from the door.  He ignored the way Abel flinched from him, expecting to be slapped or shoved again.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Cain demanded.

Abel wouldn’t say anything, just pulled away from him, eyes on the floor as he got the door open.  Where anybody would be able to see if he did slap the little slut, where the neighbors would be able to call the cops on him again, where Abel could get away from him.  He let Abel go, let him walk out.

“Fine.  Get the fuck out and don’t come back, you stupid bitch,” Cain yelled after him, following out to stand on the balcony as Abel crossed the parking lot of the apartment block, heading towards Stacey’s place.  “See who else wants to fuck you now you’ve got the clap, Abel.  I wouldn’t fuck you again if you begged me.”  Abel didn’t look back, just hugged his arms to himself and kept walking.  No socks, shoes untied and only his thin jacket on, he’d be chilled and soaked by the time he got there.

Cain sat on the top step, head in his hands, and didn’t look at the fucking track marks on his arms and every good reason Abel had to want something better.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Circles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/655499) by [elisetales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales)




End file.
